NERDS UNEXPECTED AFFECTION

Chapter 6

Daniel’s house

The gate was closed . The porch light was on. It was the kind of house that smelled like food and noise even from outside. The opposite of Desmond’s.

Desmond arrived at Daniel’s house. He knocked on the door.

It opened fast. Too fast.

Daniel’s kid sister.

Anita: “Hey! Desmond.”

She was maybe ten, wearing a princess Elsa's shirt and holding a half-eaten biscuit. She looked up at him. Then smiled.

Desmond forced his face to relax. “Hey, cutie. Where’s your brother?”

Anita: “Let me call him.” She enters, and Daniel came out.

He took one look at Desmond. At his eyes. At the car keys being gripped too tight.

Daniel didn’t say “What happened?” He didn’t need to.

Desmond: “Hey buddy. Can I spend the night here? I just need to clear my mind!!”

Daniel stepped aside and held the door open. “Had a fight at home?”

Desmond walked in. The house smelled like jollof and laundry detergent. The TV was loud in the background. Anita was already running back to the living room yelling “Mama, Desmond’s here!”

“Something like that,” Desmond said.

Mrs. Quist appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a cloth. She saw Desmond’s face and her expression went from welcoming to worried in half a second. But she didn’t ask. She just said, “Anita, set another plate. Desmond, have you eaten?”

“No, ma.”

“Then you’ll eat. And you’re sleeping in Daniel’s room.”

Desmond opened his mouth.

"Thanks,ma"

Desmond’s phone was buzzing nonstop in his pocket. Bianca. Precious. Unknown number that was probably Thomas.

He turned it off.

For tonight, he wasn’t Desmond Adjei, heir to a contract and a merger.

He was just Daniel’s friend, eating jollof at a crowded table, with Anita asking him if rich people’s cars could fly.

And for tonight, that was enough.

After the Dinner.

Anita had been sent to bed. The plates were cleared. It was just Daniel and Desmond in Daniel’s room, the fan spinning slow overhead.

Daniel tossed him a spare shirt. “catch ”

“thanks ” Desmond said. But he caught the shirt.

Daniel sat on the edge of his bed. Didn’t push. Didn’t ask again. Just waited.

Desmond exhaled. “Ah!!”

“You know you’re always welcome.”

Desmond looked at him. Really looked. Daniel had been his buffer since first year. Since before Bianca. Since before any of this.

“Thanks, Buddy!” Desmond said. Then he shoved Daniel’s shoulder, light. He pushed Daniel and told him to give him his bed.

Daniel laughed, falling back onto his own bed. “The floor’s yours, Your Highness.”

Desmond didn’t reply. He lay down on the mattress Mrs. Quist had made up on the floor, stared at the ceiling, and for the first time in months, he didn’t dream about contracts or kisses or dead mothers.

He just slept.

Next Day

Saturday – 2:50 pm – Isabel and Daniel’s neighbourhood

The sun was still high, cooking the tarred road that cut between Daniel’s house and Isabel’s. Shops were open, music was playing from a barber’s stall, and kids were kicking a deflated ball around.

Desmond was standing beside his car.

That’s when he saw Isabel.

She was coming from the corner shop, trying very hard to carry a bag of rice. 10kg.

She was in house clothes . simple T-shirt, jeans ,but it was her.

Nobody seems to pay attention to her. The area was busy, but everyone minded their business.

Desmond smirked and walked to her.

“Need help?!!”

Isabel turned to face him. her face sweaty from the heat and the weight. When she saw him, her expression went from strained to guarded in half a second.

“No! I am fine!”

Desmond looked at her arms shaking. At the bag slipping. “You’re not!!”

“I don’t need your help.” Turning to carry the bag of rice.

She bent again, determined to prove him wrong. The bag almost won.

“Well!! Suit yourself.” And he left.

He walked back to his car. Didn’t slam the door. Just got in.

Desmond entered his car. Then he saw a guy his age approaching Isabel.

The guy was in all black attire . Neighbourhood kid. Must live close. He said something to Isabel. She looked up, startled. Then she smiled. Small, but real.

They were talking happily.

And then he carried the bag of rice for her. One hand, easy. Like it weighed nothing.

And she happily followed him.

They walked down the street together, past the barber’s, past the kiosk, her head tilted up to talk to him, her shoulders no longer hunched.

And Desmond left.

He started his car. Pulled out. Didn’t honk. Didn’t wave.

At Desmond’s House

The first person Desmond saw when he walked through the door was Hillary.

“Desmond!” she rushed to him, relief and panic mixing in her voice. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick about you. Have you eaten?” Her hand came up, soft, trying to touch his face the way a mother would.

“Stop it,” he snapped, jerking away from her like her fingers burned. “Oh please, can you stop what you’re doing!” His voice cracked into a shout that echoed off the marble walls. “You are not my mom, so stop acting like her! Go find your own son and do that to him!”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He turned and stormed off, leaving Hillary standing in the hall with tears already pooling in her eyes, her hand still raised in the empty space where his face had been.

He slammed his bedroom door and headed straight for the shower, hoping the water would wash the house off his skin.

A few minutes later, the front gate buzzed. Bianca had arrived.

“Good morning, ma’am,” Jean greeted, bowing slightly.

“Is Desmond around?” Bianca asked, not bothering with small talk. Her eyes were already scanning the stairs.

“Yeah. Sir Desmond just arrived,” Jean replied.

Bianca frowned. “Why? Didn’t he spend the night here?”

Jean hesitated, glancing at the floor. “Em...”

“Never mind.” Bianca cut her off and started upstairs without waiting for permission. Her heels clicked against each step like a countdown.

She stopped at Desmond’s door and knocked twice. No response. The shower was running. She tried the handle. Unlocked. She pushed it open, stepped inside, and lay across his bed like she belonged there, pulling out her phone.

The bathroom door opened minutes later. Desmond walked out, towel around his neck, fully dressed, and froze when he saw her.

“Bianca!!”

She stood and crossed to him immediately. “Desmond, where have you been? I called you countless times but you didn’t answer any of my calls!”

“Sorry about that,” he said, his voice flat. “I wasn’t ready to talk to anyone.”

“Why? Did you argue with your Dad?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you okay?” Her hand went to his arm, searching his face.

“Yeah. Don’t worry.” He pulled away and walked toward his bed, sitting on the edge like the weight of the house was finally too much to carry standing up.

Bianca followed and sat beside him, slipping her arm around his neck, pulling him close. For a second, the room was quiet. For a second, he almost let himself lean into her.

Then a knock broke it.

Desmond exhaled and went to open the door. Jean stood there, looking uncomfortable.

“Sir! Your father wants to see you downstairs.”

“Tell him I’m not coming.” Desmond shut the door in his face.

“Desmond!” Bianca grabbed his wrist. “Please go. Maybe your Dad is going to tell you something important!”

“No!” He ran a hand through his damp hair. “That crazy old man is just gonna set me off again!”

“Desmond, just go to him, please.” Her voice was softer now, pleading.

He stared at her for a long moment, then cursed under his breath. “Alright.”

He went out.

His father was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, standing in the middle of the hall like a judge. The air between them was already heavy.

“What now?!” Desmond spat before his foot even hit the last step. “Old man!!!”

“How dare you talk to my wife in that manner?!” Thomas’s voice boomed, making the chandeliers tremble.

Desmond said nothing. He just stood there, jaw locked.

“It’s you I’m talking to, Desmond!” Thomas took a step forward.

Desmond laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Well! Why don’t you put some sense into your wife’s head to stop pretending to care about me!!!”

“She is your mother! Show some respect!!”

“Mother, my foot,” Desmond snarled. “No one can replace my mother!!!!”

“Thomas, calm down.” Hillary appeared from the dining room, her eyes red, her voice shaking. “You don’t want your blood pressure to go high.”

Thomas didn’t even look at her. “No! I won’t watch my son turn into a brat!!”

Desmond’s lip curle.

“You should listen to your wife,” Desmond said, his voice low and shaking with rage, “because if you die, she won’t wait for your burial before she jumps into another man’s bed!!”

The slap came fast. In the blink of an eye, Thomas’s hand connected with Desmond’s face. The sound cracked through the hall like a gunshot.

“Thomas! No!” Hillary screamed, rushing forward, but it was too late.

Desmond didn’t say a word. He didn’t even look at his father. He just turned and took the stairs two at a time, his cheek burning, his chest burning worse.

He met Bianca halfway up.

“I heard Uncle shouting,” she said, eyes wide. “What happened? Did you...”

“Leave me alone!” Desmond barked, not stopping.

“Desmond!” She reached for him.

He spun on her, all the poison from downstairs now aimed at her. “Didn’t you hear me?! I said leave me alone!!!”

Bianca flinched like he’d hit her too.

Desmond turned away, facing his room door, his shoulders rigid.

“Fine!” she spat, her face twisting with anger.

Guilt hit him instantly. He turned back and grabbed her hand. “Bianca, I am sorry...”

She snatched her hand from him like he was on fire. Without another word, she brushed past him and went downstairs.

Desmond stood there, alone on the steps. The house was quiet again. Too quiet. He took a deep breath that hurt all the way down, then opened his door and went into his room.

Isabel’s Neighborhood

The sun was high when Isabel came from the market, two big bags of vegetables pulling her arms down. Sweat stuck her blouse to her back, and the plastic handles were cutting into her palms.

“Madam, those bags look heavy,” a voice said. “Let me help.”

Isabel looked up. A young lady .Nadia was already reaching for one of the bags, smiling like they’d known each other for years.

“Thanks,” Isabel exhaled, her shoulders dropping with relief as Nadia took the weight. “This was what I wanted , for someone to offer me a help.”

“Then I’m the good Samaritan here,” Nadia said with a wink.

Isabel laughed, the sound surprising her. “Yeah.”

They walked side by side, the bag swinging between them, two strangers laughing in the dust of the neighborhood.

Desmond’s House

Desmond didn’t go to his own room.

His feet carried him down the hall to a door that had been closed for months. His mother’s room.

The air inside was stale, untouched. The bed was made. Her perfume still clung to the curtains, faint but there. He crossed to the dresser and picked up her picture .the one from her 30th birthday, smiling like the world hadn’t learned how to hurt her yet.

He held it with both hands, like it might break.

*Flashback*

A little boy in pajamas padded barefoot down the hallway. He was maybe six, maybe seven. Small enough that the house felt huge around him.

Voices bled through his parents’ bedroom door. Angry. Sharp.

He stopped, pressing himself against the wall, and listened.

"Thomas how could you do this to me,” Tina’s voice cracked through the bedroom door. “How could you cheat on me with my best friend?”

The little boy outside froze, his breath caught in his throat.

Thomas’s voice was quieter, full of something that sounded like shame. “I’m sorry, Tina. I didn’t mean to do that, but you never have time. All you care about is work.”

“You didn’t even think of your son before doing that,” Tina said, her words like ice. “I am leaving. With my son.”

The door flew open.

Tina stepped out and found Desmond standing there, his small face confused and sad, his pajama sleeve pressed to his mouth.

“Mom, what’s going on?” he whispered.

Tina bent down and placed her hand on Desmond’s face, her palm warm against his cold cheek. “Baby, it’s..”

The front door opened.

Hillary walked in.

Tina stood up so fast Desmond stumbled back. She crossed the room in three steps and slapped Hillary across the face, hard. The sound was worse than any shout.

“How could you, Hillary?” Tina’s eyes were already spilling over. “How could you?”

Hillary staggered, her hand flying to her cheek. “I.. I.. It.. It was a mistake. I.. was” Tears dropped onto her blouse.

“Desperate?” Tina’s laugh was broken glass. “Desperate, right.”

Hillary started crying, loud, ugly sobs. “I’m sorry,” she choked out. “I’m sorry.”

Little Desmond watched it all, his mother crying, his father silent in the doorway, and his mom’s best friend falling apart. He didn’t understand every word, but he understood the feeling.

Something in his house had just died.

“All I did for you,” Tina’s voice shook, but her eyes were dry now. Too angry for tears. “I took you as a friend despite what my mom said about you. I helped you get a job. I bought a house for you. What didn’t I do?”

Hillary couldn’t look at her. She stared at the floor, shoulders trembling.

“And this is how you repay me?” Tina’s voice climbed until it filled the whole house. “By stealing my husband?!”

“I’m sorry,” Hillary whispered. It was barely a sound.

“I hate you.” Tina said it plain, no heat, just fact. “You’re a gold digger.”

“Tina, please stop it!” Thomas appeared in the doorway, his face pale.

Tina turned on him, and for a second she looked ten feet tall. “You know what? Both of you should go to hell!”

“Mom!” Desmond’s little voice broke through. He was crying now, snot and tears mixing on his face, his hands reaching for her.

Tina didn’t answer Thomas. She scooped Desmond up, holding him tight against her chest like someone might take him. She carried him past Hillary, past Thomas, and into her bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them.

The house went quiet. But the damage was already done.